Temptation Accomplished
by ichbineinnerdess
Summary: Starts where the end of the mini-series ends, at the Ritz. Ends in Crowley's bed. Crowley/Aziraphale romance. Some angst, some humor, many feelings. Please enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

Crowley shifted in his chair, his left elbow leaning against its back and the rest of his body leaning towards Aziraphale on his right, somehow managing to look even more elegantly uncomfortable than before. He was watching Aziraphale eat his dessert, with a great deal more interest than was usual for such a commonplace occurrence. His lips twitched as he seemed to consider something, reconsider it, and then consider it again.

"You know," he said, breaking the comfortable silence of the past few minutes, "you know how humans express their love for one another using their corporeal forms? I thought… well, I thought that since you enjoy other corporeal pleasures," Crowley gestured in the general direction of Aziraphale's plates, "you would maybe enjoy… that, as well."

"Oh," said Aziraphale, and then added, "um." He glanced over at Crowley, who was staring down his wine glass, uncharacteristically still, with his lower lip sticking out a bit in concentration as though he were attempting to set the wine on fire. Maybe he was attempting to set the wine on fire. Demons – you never know, really.

"That really would be going native, now wouldn't it," Aziraphale gave a tiny, nervous chuckle, "and, ah, have you ever…"

"Well not really," Crowley was tilting his glass back and forth now, in a manner that a nearby waiter found increasingly alarming, "not as such, no.

But then again, I never had sushi until you tempted me to try it."

"Tempted, oh dear, yes I suppose," Aziraphale smiled fondly at the memory, "although tempting is your job really, isn't it?"

"Well then angel, let me tempt you again," Crowley leaned forward, both elbows on the table now, hands tucked under his chin.

"Again?" asked Aziraphale, inserting a finger into his collar and tugging at it.

Crowley looked pointedly at their surroundings and then back at Aziraphale, who shook his head and sighed, "I suppose I have been less proof to temptation recently. The almost-apocalypse quite unnerved me, you know."

"Yes, me as well. Worked out alright though, didn't it?" Crowley waved his hand non-committedly, "For now at least."

"For now," Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley cleared his throat. "So, angel, what'll it be? I don't think you've ever been to my place. I have houseplants. Did I ever tell you about my houseplants?"

"No, no I don't believe you have," Aziraphale stopped fidgeting with his collar, and picked up his fork again, "Houseplants, did you say?" he murmured, spearing a petite madeleine and taking a delicate bite, "My, this sauce is heavenly."

"Oh yes, loads of houseplants," Crowley reached out with his spoon and scooped up some fruit salad for himself, "they're very… verdant."

"In that case – I might just come over and get a look at these houseplants of yours," said Aziraphale.

"No! Really?" Crowley's eyebrows rose, his dark glasses slipping down his nose just low enough to reveal the tops of his serpentine eyes.

Aziraphale licked his fork and placed it neatly next to his now-empty plate. "Scrumptious," he smiled contentedly. "Crowley, I have objected before on the grounds that – well, they have already sentenced me to death by hellfire, haven't they? And I believe – I mean, I no longer believe – well…"

Crowley was still staring at Aziraphale with raised eyebrows, his grin growing broader by the minute.

Aziraphale was still searching for words. There were things he hadn't meant to say out loud, but now that they were at the tip of his tongue, they were demanding to be set free. "Gabriel and the other angels," he whispered, "I don't believe they were acting for Good."

"Mmm, shocking isn't it," Crowley cupped his chin in his hands.

"Yes! Quite shocking!" Aziraphale's whisper was just a tad louder now, "I don't believe any of the angels actually know what The Almighty's –"

"Ineffable plan is?" Crowley cut in.

Aziraphale nodded emphatically, "Yes, they're just acting according to… according to –"

"Their own interest?" Crowley suggested gently.

"Yes!" Aziraphale looked around guiltily, shocked at his own impudence.

"Sort of what you would expect from our side, eh?" Crowley leaned back in his chair again.

"I suppose I no longer know what to expect. Or what the sides are. We seem to be the only ones on their side," Aziraphale gestured towards the humans surrounding them, eating their food, having their conversations, blissfully oblivious to the fact that they would all be dead by now if Heaven had had its way.

"Traitors," agreed Crowley.

"Well," Aziraphale seemed to bristle a little at the label, "I feel that what I did was right."

"Well then you must be right, angel," Crowley smiled, "I don't think you can do wrong."

"But that would mean…" Aziraphale looked up, hesitantly.

"Mmm," Crowley sighed. It was a deep sigh, a sigh that hinted at centuries of thought behind it, "I have been waiting for you to realize that for a very long time, angel. You felt it, I know you did, but you were in denial for longer than I thought possible."

Either Aziraphale's eyes were brimming with human-like tears, or it was a trick of the light that made Crowley think it. "I was a fool, blindly obedient," Aziraphale's voice broke and he folded his hands together on the table, "No more."

"Ah, but you were never obedient, angel," Crowley's lips quirked and the corners of his eyes crinkled in good humor, but his voice was gentle again, "I was quite shocked by you at our first meeting. Even then I thought, how is he not fallen? You felt the Almighty did the wrong thing casting them out of the garden with no protection," he was laughing now, "you were worried that the Almighty was _wrong_. You gave up your sword!" Crowley shook his head, "Who, knowing you, gave you that sword, and whom did they think you would use it against?

Oh, and the Great Flood. You knew it could not be a Good thing as much as I did. You could not bear to admit to yourself that you knew."

"It's true, I couldn't bear it. I can hardly bear it now. Oh, should I have done more to protect them all?" Aziraphale placed his hand on the table, on top of Crowley's, and looked earnestly into his eyes.

"You did alright, angel," Crowley patted Aziraphale's hand, "you did alright."

"Is that why you fell?" asked Aziraphale curiously. He had never gotten a straight answer to that, but he had gotten quite a number of conflicting ones that made varying degrees of sense.

"I don't really like to talk about that. But I suppose questioning the Great Plan was a big part of it, yeah.

Many of the fallen angels weren't quite so bad as they are now, you know," Crowley poured himself the last of the wine.

"Did it hurt, falling?" Aziraphale asked, watching Crowley drain his glass.

"Yes," Crowley sat up abruptly, "it did." He pushed his dark glasses back up using his thumb, and raised his hand at the nearest waiter, "Cheque please!"

He turned to Aziraphale, "So, shall we? To my place?"

"Do you know," Aziraphale said with what might have, on a human, be called a blush, "I think you would have made quite a wonderful angel."

Crowley smiled. It was almost tender.

"Once you would have attacked me for saying that to you," Aziraphale reminded him.

Crowley shrugged, "Things change. Houseplants?"

"Houseplants," agreed Aziraphale, beaming.


	2. Chapter 2

"It's very… tidy," Aziraphale looked around him, "not hellish at all. Bit dark though, you might want to open the blinds. My word, that's a very majestic chair."

"It was made for a Duke, actually," Crowley, not one to ever sit properly on chairs, sat across it in his own peculiar manner, "but was delivered to the wrong address due to a little demonic intervention."

Aziraphale, however, didn't seem to be listening. He was walking to the opposite wall with a slightly furrowed brow.

"Crowley, is there something behind this wall? There is a very uncanny feel to it."

Crowley sprung from his chair, "My houseplants!" and with a wave of his hand, the wall turned halfway to reveal a large room, filled with sunlight and luscious plants.

He walked in and gestured broadly around him, "Do you like it?"

Aziraphale faltered a bit under Crowley's expectant gaze, "Ah, yes, of course, they are very lovely," he reached out a finger and stroked a small, green leaf, "but – ah… they do seem a bit… terrified?"

"Well," Crowley shrugged, "maybe I do threaten them a bit, but it's for their own good. Look, not a spot in sight, they're all in perfect health." He leaned over and added in a conspiratorial whisper, "I don't really hurt them, you know. It's all just for show," and he sauntered out of the room leaving a slightly bewildered Aziraphale behind him.

"Come on, Aziraphale," Crowley shouted over his shoulder, opening and shutting empty cupboards and drawers, "I know I have wine and a couple of glasses somewhere."

"Oh, that's quite all right," said Aziraphale, "I don't believe I should have any more wine."

He entered the room, looked about him for a place to sit, and then leaned a bit awkwardly against the wall, "Not used to entertaining guests, I take it?" He beckoned to the only other chair in the room, very similar to the first one but slightly less grand, and it started gliding towards him.

"Er, no," Crowley placed a small wine bottle and a couple of glasses on the large marble table top, "not intentionally, anyway.

Reorganizing my apartment? You'll be buying me bookshelves next."

"Well, this place could do with some books," Aziraphale admonished.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale for a long moment, and then slowly walked towards him. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of Aziraphale, and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment longer. He leaned in, until he could feel Aziraphale's quick breaths on his skin, and then he stopped. He bowed his head, his forehead touching Aziraphale's.

"I can't. You're so… pure."

Aziraphale exhaled an exasperated little puff of air, "You are not _im_pure."

Crowley just shook his head. A single tear unexpectedly escaped his tightly shut eyes and made its way down his cheek.

Aziraphale placed his hands gently on Crowley's face, wiping the tear away with his thumb, and touched his lips softly to his.

It was chaste as kisses go but the touch seemed to send an electric current through Crowley's body.

"Ah," he said, not being able at that precise moment to come up with a more appropriate verbal response.

"Take off your sunglasses," Aziraphale said.

A moment or two, and then Crowley complied, raising his eyes to meet Aziraphale's.

"The eyes of a serpent," he whispered, "the eyes of a lowly beast, damned to crawl and slither for eternity."

"I've seen them before," Aziraphale sounded confused.

"I've never asked you to love me before," Crowley answered simply.

"But I have loved you. More than I ever loved Heaven," Aziraphale pushed a strand of Crowley's hair away from his forehead, "and your eyes are beautiful, because they are your eyes.

You are beautiful, right down to your soul. I was wrong to ever doubt you."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I fell," Crowley's voice was strangled, "I've never admitted that to anyone before."

"Well, you're forgiven," Aziraphale said resolutely.

Crowley laughed, then the laughter turned into a sob, and he leaned his head against Aziraphale's shoulder, "Forgiven," he repeated quietly, and then again, "forgiven.

Oh, angel."

He lifted his head to look into Aziraphale's eyes once more, and then pressed his lips to his, harder than before, rough and demanding.

Aziraphale didn't shy away from the kiss, parting his lips and running his fingers through Crowley's hair.

"That felt very good," he said, when Crowley finally drew back, "I wouldn't mind doing that again."

"No, neither would I," Crowley touched his forehead to Aziraphale's again, "neither would I."

He suddenly straightened up again and cocked his head to the side. "'But I have loved you'," he repeated Aziraphale's words, with more than a hint of a smile on his lips, "does that mean you're terribly, irrevocably, wings over heels in love with me?"

Aziraphale smiled indulgently, "Poor Crowley, I suppose I have had an unfair advantage, what with being able to sense feelings."

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

"Please don't misunderstand me," Aziraphale said hastily, "I wasn't trifling with your feelings, I was just, well, confused, I suppose. I was frightened about the implications of – well, everything. I was afraid of falling, perhaps."

"Falling in love, or –" Crowley pointed downwards and mouthed, "Falling?"

"Both," Aziraphale admitted, and looked into Crowley's eyes, "and I'm afraid I've done both. I know you care for me a great deal. I am so terribly sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you I felt the same. Can you ever forgive me?"

"Haven't you noticed that I always forgive you, poppet?" Crowley asked softly.

"You spoil me," Aziraphale gave a knowing smile and his eyelashes fluttered a little as he began removing Crowley's jacket.

Crowley hastily stepped backwards, "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders excitedly, "I'm quite looking forward to this."

Crowley placed his sunglasses carefully on the table with a slight smile, "Maybe you go too fast for me."

"Tsk," Aziraphale rolled his eyes theatrically.

Crowley took a deep breath. "Right," he said, "let's kiss you properly, angel." He took Aziraphale's face in his hands and kissed his mouth, lingering a little on the bottom lip before moving downwards and kissing his chin, his neck, his throat.

"Oh," breathed Aziraphale, and gently kissed Crowley's cheekbone while he undid his bowtie.

"Too many buttons on your shirt," Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale flicked his wrist impatiently, and his clothes were instantly replaced by a simple white toga. He gave Crowley a small, impish smile, "Better?"

"Tsk," Crowley raised his eyebrows, eyes gleaming, "such frivolous miracles."

He shrugged off his jacket, unbuttoned his vest and pulled his shirt off over his head.

Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley's bare chest and, on an impulse, traced a shape with his finger.

Crowley froze. "Was that an angelic sigil? You do remember that I'm a demon?"

"Oops, sorry," Aziraphale said apologetically, "but, well, no harm done."

He tugged at the knot on his shoulder, "Unwrap me?"

Crowley pulled at the white material, and then stared as it fell to Aziraphale's feet.

"You weren't wearing anything underneath that," he said, a bit pointlessly.

"No," Aziraphale beamed, "your turn".

"Right," Crowley unbuckled his belt, and paused, "getting these jeans off requires a bit of effort. Skinny jeans. You know."

"I'll do it," Aziraphale said and promptly dropped to his knees, tugging at Crowley's jeans enthusiastically, and then exclaimed, "Oh look, it's gone all hard!"

"Right," Crowley bit his lip, and snapped his fingers. The table turned into a wide bed covered with black silk sheets. He grabbed Aziraphale and pushed him onto it.

Aziraphale pointed, "Look, mine has gone hard as well!"

Crowley kicked off his shoes and pants, and then turned to snap his fingers at the half-open wall. "Must protect the plants' innocence," he muttered. The wall rotated slowly and closed as Crowley lowered himself onto the bed, onto Aziraphale.

"You –" whatever Aziraphale had intended to say was forgotten as Crowley took him in his mouth, and an entire world of new sensations washed over him.

"Oh, oh, that shouldn't be possible!" He clutched at the sheets, moaned and whimpered, and at the last gasped out loud as Crowley gave a final lick and worked his way up Aziraphale's belly with a tongue that was longer and decidedly more forked than before.

"Oh. Ohhh," said Aziraphale weakly, no other words coming readily to mind.

"That was – that was…" he tried again.

Crowley's tongue reverted to its human form, "Indeed it was."

"How ever did you know to do that?" Aziraphale asked, staring at Crowley in amazement.

"Whatever do you mean," Crowley feigned outrage, "I'm a demon, a creature of sin!"

"Of course you are," Aziraphale patted Crowley's forearm contentedly, "that was wonderful."

"You know what they say, angel – you must do unto others as you would have them do unto you," Crowley's serpentine eyes seemed to be laughing, but his expression was soft as he leaned down to kiss Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Absolutely, tickety-boo," Aziraphale wriggled down in the bed.

"You need to stop saying –" Crowley's exasperation was replaced by something altogether different as Aziraphale began experimenting with the effect his tongue could have, with quite remarkable zeal.

"Oh _hell_," Crowley reached down and entwined his fingers in Aziraphale's curls. "I can't believe this is happening," he whispered, and then groaned in pleasure as Aziraphale's mouth moved deeper and faster. He looked down and their eyes met.

Aziraphale's eyes had that twinkle Crowley knew so well, the one he looked for whenever he granted Aziraphale a favor with pretense of reluctance, or swooped in to save Aziraphale from the repercussions of some sticky situation he had gotten himself into; in short, whenever Aziraphale got what he wanted.

Aziraphale ran his hand up Crowley's thigh and bottom. Crowley stretched his neck back with a hiss. He bit his lip as if to prevent further sounds, his body taut and rigid, until finally his hand clenched tighter in Aziraphale's hair and a cry of pleasure escaped him.

Crowley's body relaxed and he gave a low whistle, "Fuck me, I should have done that before."

After a moment of staring at the ceiling with a slightly dazed expression, his eyes flicked towards Aziraphale and found him sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed in his toga, sipping wine.

"So, I've been to Hell," Aziraphale said conversationally, as if a naked, spent Crowley wasn't lying stretched out in front of him on a bed that had been a table just minutes ago.

"What –" Crowley struggled to regain his grasp on whatever the situation was.

"Hell," Aziraphale repeated, patiently.

"Hell, yeah," Crowley propped himself up on both elbows, "yes. I'm sorry about that."

"No, it's just – you don't belong there, you know," Aziraphale tilted his head, watching Crowley.

"I never belonged there," Crowley flopped back down onto the bed, "I've been to Heaven recently though, and let me tell you, angel, you don't belong _there_. I mean, pfft, I didn't think I could be disillusioned any further, but… ah well, in any case we can't go back, either of us."

"Yes," there was sorrow in Aziraphale's voice, "we belong nowhere, you and I."

"Nonsense," Crowley gave a slow smile, and he sat up, grabbing Aziraphale by the toga and pulling him near, "we belong right here, with each other."

"Why, Crowley dear, I believe you've gone soft," Aziraphale said, and before Crowley could decide whether to object or agree, he was distracted by a very warm embrace from an angel he knew very, very well.


End file.
